"That is the supper bell. It rings just after the Angelus," saidHester. "No, it is not ours. The great folks, Lady Powys, LadyStrickland, and the rest sup first. We have the dishes after them,with Nurses Labadie and Royer and the rest--no bad ones either.They are allowed five dishes and two bottles of wine apiece, andthey always leave plenty for us, and it is served hot too."

The preparations for going down to the second table now absorbed theparty.

As Hester said, the fare at this second table was not to bedespised. It was a formal meal shared with the two nurses and thetwo pages of the backstairs. Not the lads usually associated withthe term, but men of mature age, and of gentle, though not noble,birth and breeding; and there were likewise the attendants of theKing and Queen of the same grade, such as Mr. Labadie, the King'svalet, some English, but besides these, Dusian, the Queen's Frenchpage, and Signer and Signora Turini, who had come with her fromModena, Pere Giverlai, her confessor, and another priest. PereGiverlai said grace, and the conversation went on briskly betweenthe elders, the younger ones being supposed to hold their peace.

Their dishes went in reversion to the inferior class of servants,laundress, sempstress, chambermaids, and the like, who had much moreliberty than their betters, and not such a lack of occupation asAnne soon perceived that she should suffer from.

There was, however, a great muster of all the Prince'sestablishment, who stood round, as many as could, with littlegarments in their hands, while he was solemnly undressed and laid inhis richly inlaid and carved cradle--over which Pere Giverlaipronounced a Latin benediction.

The nursery establishment was then released, except one of thenurses, who was to sleep or wake on a couch by his side, and one ofthe rockers. These damsels had, two at a time, to divide the nightbetween them, one being always at hand to keep the food warm, touchthe rocker at need with her foot, or call up the nurse on duty ifthe child awoke, but not presume herself to handle his little RoyalHighness.

It was the night when Mistresses Dunord and Bridgeman were due, andAnne followed Jane Humphreys to her room, asking a little about theduties of the morrow.

"We must be dressed before seven," said the girl. "One of us willbe left on duty while the others go to Mass. I am glad you are aProtestant, Miss Woodford, for the Catholics put everything on methat they can."

"We must do our best to help and strengthen each other," said Anne.

"It is very hard," said Jane; "and the priests are always at me! Iwould change as Hester Bridgeman has done, but that I know it wouldbreak my grand-dame's heart. My father might not care so much, if Igot advancement, but I believe it would kill my grandmother."

"Hester says one religion is as good as another to get to Heavenby," murmured Jane.

"Not if we deny our own for the world's sake," said Anne. "Is thechapel here a Popish one?"

"No; the Queen has an Oratory, but the Popish chapel is at St.James's--across the Park. The Protestant one is here at Whitehall,and there are daily prayers at nine o'clock, and on Sunday musicwith three fiddlers, and my grandmother says it might almost as wellbe Popish at once."

"Did your grandmother bring you up?"

"Yes. My mother died when I was seven years old, and my grandmotherbred us all up. You should hear her talk of the good old timesbefore the Kings came back and there were no Bishops and no bookprayers--but my father says we must swim with the stream, or hewould not have got any custom at his coffee-house."

"Is that his calling?"

"Ay! No one has a better set of guests than in the Golden Lamb.The place is full. The great Dr. Hammond sees his patients there,and it is all one buzz of the wits. It was because of that that myLord Sunderland made interest, and got me here. How did you come?"

Anne briefly explained, and Jane broke out--

"Then you will be my friend, and we will tell each other all oursecrets. You are a Protestant too. You will be mine, and notBridgeman's or Dunord's--I hate them."

In point of fact Anne did not feel much attracted by the proffer offriendship, and she certainly did not intend to tell Jane Humphreysall her secrets, nor to vow enmity to the other colleagues, but shegravely answered that she trusted they would be friends and help tomaintain one another's faith. She was relieved that Miss Bridgemanhere came in to take her first turn of rest till she was to becalled up at one o'clock.

As Jane Humphreys had predicted, Mrs. Royer and Anne alone were leftin charge of the nursling while every one went to morning Mass.Then followed breakfast and the levee of his Royal Highness, lastingas on the previous day till dinner-time; and the afternoon was asbefore, except that the day was fine enough for the child to becarried out with all his attendants behind him to take the air inthe private gardens.

If this was to be the whole course of life at the palace, Anne beganto feel that she had made a great mistake. She was by no meansattracted by her companions, though Miss Bridgeman decided that shemust know persons of condition, and made overtures of friendship, tobe sealed by calling one another Oriana and Portia. She did notapprove of such common names as Princess Anne and Lady Churchillused--Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman! They must have something betterthan what was used by the Cockpit folks, and she was sure that herdear Portia would soon be of the only true faith.

CHAPTER XVII: MACHINATIONS

"Baby born to woe."

F. T. PALGRAVE.

When Anne Woodford began to wake from the constant thought of thegrief and horror she had left at Portchester, and to feel more aliveto her surroundings and less as if they were a kind of dream, inwhich she only mechanically took her part, one thing impresseditself on her gradually, and that was disappointment. If theprevious shock had not blunted all her hopes and aspirations,perhaps she would have felt it sooner and more keenly; but she couldnot help realising that she had put herself into an inferiorposition whence there did not seem to be the promotion she had onceanticipated. Her companion rockers were of an inferior grade toherself. Jane Humphreys was a harmless but silly girl, not muchwiser, though less spoilt, than poor little Madam, and full ofCockney vulgarities. Education was unfashionable just then, andthough Hester Bridgeman was bettor born and bred, being the daughterof an attorney in the city, she was not much better instructed, andhad no pursuits except that of her own advantage. Pauline Dunordwas by far the best of the three, but she seemed to live a lifeapart, taking very little interest in her companions or anythingaround her except her devotions and the bringing them over to herChurch. The nursery was quite a separate establishment; there wasno mingling with the guests of royalty, who were only seen inexcited peeps from the window, or when solemnly introduced to thepresence chamber to pay their respects to the Prince. As to books,the only secular one that Anne saw while at Whitehall was an oddvolume of Parthenissa. The late King's summary of the Romancontroversy was to be had in plenty, and nothing was more evidentthan that the only road to favour or promotion was in being therebyconvinced.

"Don't throw it down as if it were a hot chestnut," said her Oriana."That's what they all do at first, but they come to it at last."

Anne made no answer, but a pang smote her as she thought of heruncle's warnings. Yet surely she might hope for other modes ofprospering, she who was certainly by far the best looking and besteducated of all the four, not that this served her much in herpresent company, and those of higher rank did not notice her at all.Princess Anne would surely recollect her, and then she might be safein a Protestant household, where her uncle would be happy about her.

The Princess had been at Bath when first she arrived, but at the endof a week preparations were made at the Cockpit, a sort of appendageto Whitehall, where the Prince and Princess of Denmark lived, and indue time there was a visit to the nursery. Standing in fullceremony behind Lady Powys, Anne saw the plump face and form sherecollected in the florid bloom of a young matron, not without acertain royal dignity in the pose of the head, though in grace andbeauty far surpassed by the tall, elegant figure and face of LadyChurchill, whose bright blue eyes seemed to be taking in everythingeverywhere. Anne's heart began to beat high at the sight of a oncefamiliar face, and with hopes of a really kind word from one who asan elder girl had made much of the pretty little plaything. ThePrincess Anne's countenance was, however, less good-natured thanusual; her mouth was made up to a sullen expression, and when herbrother was shown to her she did not hold out her arms to him norvouchsafe a kiss.

The Queen looked at her wistfully, asking--

"Is he not like the King?"

"Humph!" returned Princess Anne, "I see no likeness to any livingsoul of our family."

"Nay, but see his little nails," said the Queen, spreading the tinyhand over her finger. "See how like your father's they are framed!My treasure, you can clasp me!"

"My brother, Edgar! He was the beauty," said the Princess. "_He_was exactly like my father; but there's no judging of anything sopuny as this!"

"He was very suffering last week, the poor little angel," said themother sadly; "but they say this water-gruel is very nourishing, andnot so heavy as milk."

"It does not look as if it agreed with him," said the Princess."Poor little mammet! Did I hear that you had the little Woodfordhere? Is that you, girl?"

Anne courtesied herself forward.

"Ay, I remember you. I never forget a face, and you have grown upfair enough. Where's your mother?"

"I lost her last February, so please your Royal Highness."

"Oh! She was a good woman. Why did she not send you to me? Well,well! Come to my toilette to-morrow."

So Princess Anne swept away in her rich blue brocade. Her behestwas obeyed, of course, though it was evidently displeasing to thenursery authorities, and Lady Strickland gave a warning to bediscreet and to avoid gossip with the Cockpit folks.

Anne could not but be excited. Perhaps the Princess would ask forher, and take her into the number of her own attendants, where shewould no longer be in a Romish household, and would certainly be ina higher position. Why, she remembered that very Lady Churchill asSarah Jennings in no better a position than she could justly aspireto. Her coming to Court would thus be truly justified.

The Princess sat in a silken wrapper, called a night-gown, in herchamber, which had a richly-curtained bed in the alcove, and atoilet-table with a splendid Venetian mirror, and a good deal ofsilver sparkling on it, while a strange mixture of perfumes camefrom the various boxes and bottles. Ladies and tirewomen stood inattendance; a little black boy in a turban and gold-embroidereddress held a salver with her chocolate cup; a cockatoo soliloquisedin low whispers in the window; a monkey was chained to a pole at asafe distance from him; a French friseur was manipulating thePrincess's profuse brown hair with his tongs; and a needy-looking,pale thin man, in a semi-clerical suit, was half-reading, half-declaiming a poem, in which 'Fair Anna' seemed mixed up with Juno,Ceres, and other classical folk, but to which she was evidentlypaying very little attention.

"Ah! there you are, little one. Thank you, Master--what's name;that is enough. 'Tis a fine poem, but I never can remember which iswhich of all your gods and goddesses. Oh yes, I accept thededication. Give him a couple of guineas, Ellis; it will serve himfor board and lodging for a fortnight, poor wretch!" Then, aftergiving a smooth, well-shaped white hand to be kissed, and invitingher visitor to a cushion at her feet, she began a long series ofquestions, kindly ones at first, though of the minute gossipingkind, and extending to the Archfields, for poor young Madam had beenof the rank about which royalty knew everything in those days. Theinquiries were extremely minute, and the comments what from any oneelse, Anne would have thought vulgar, especially in the presence ofthe hairdresser, but her namesake observed her blush and hesitation,and said, "Oh, never mind a creature like that. He is French,besides, and does not understand a word we say."

Anne, looking over the Princess's head, feared that she saw atwinkle in the man's eye, and could only look down and try to ignorehim through the catechism that ensued, on when she came toWhitehall, on the Prince of Wales's health, the management of him,and all the circumstances connected with his birth.

Very glad was Anne that she knew nothing, and had not picked up anyinformation as to what had happened before she came to the palace.As to the present, Lady Strickland's warning and her own sense ofhonour kept her reticent to a degree that evidently vexed thePrincess, for she dropped her caressing manner, and sent her awaywith a not very kind, "You may go now; you will be turning Papistnext, and what would your poor mother say?"

And as Anne departed in backward fashion she heard Lady Churchillsay, "You will make nothing of her. She is sharper than sheaffects, and a proud minx! I see it in her carriage."

The visit had only dashed a few hopes and done her harm with herimmediate surroundings, who always disliked and distrustedintercourse with the other establishment.

However, in another day the nursery was moved to Richmond. This wasa welcome move to Anne, who had spent her early childhood nearenough to be sometimes taken thither, and to know the Park well, sothat there was a home feeling in the sight of the outline of thetrees and the scenery of the neighbourhood. The Queen intendedgoing to Bath, so that the establishment was only that of thePrince, and the life was much quieter on the whole; but there was nogratifying any yearning for country walks, for it was not safe norperhaps decorous for one young woman to be out alone in a park opento the public and haunted by soldiers from Hounslow--nor couldeither of her fellow-rockers understand her preference for asecluded path through the woods. Miss Dunord never went out at all,except on duty, when the Prince was carried along the walks in thegarden, and the other two infinitely preferred the open spaces,where tables were set under the horse-chestnut trees for parties whoboated down from London to eat curds and whey, sometimes bringing afiddler so as to dance under the trees.

Jane Humphreys especially was always looking out for acquaintances,and once, with a cry of joy, a stout, homely-looking young womanstarted up, exclaiming, "Sister Jane!" and flew into her arms. Uponwhich Miss Woodford was introduced to 'My sister Coles' and herhusband, and had to sit down under a tree and share the festivities,while there was an overflow of inquiries and intelligence, domesticand otherwise. Certainly these were persons whom she would not havetreated as equals at home.

Besides, it was all very well to hear of the good old grandmother'srheumatics, and of little Tommy's teething, and even to see Janehang her head and be teased about remembering Mr. Hopkins; nor wasit wonderful to hear lamentations over the extreme dulness of thelife where one never saw a creature to speak to who was not as oldas the hills; but when it came to inquiries as minute as thePrincess's about the Prince of Wales, Anne thought the full detailslavishly poured out scarcely consistent with loyalty to their oathsof service and Lady Strickland's warning, and she told Jane so.

She was answered, "Oh la! what harm can it do? You are such a proudpeat! Grand-dame and sister like to know all about His RoyalHighness."

This was true; but Anne was far more uncomfortable two or three dayslater. The Prince was ailing, so much so that Lady Powys had sentan express for the Queen, who had not yet started for Bath, whenAnne and Jane, being relieved from duty by the other pair, went outfor a stroll.

"Oh la!" presently exclaimed Jane, "if that is not Colonel Sands,the Princess's equerry. I do declare he is coming to speak to us,though he is one of the Cockpit folks."

He was a very fine gentleman indeed, all scarlet and gold, and nowonder Jane was flattered and startled, so that she jerked her fanviolently up and down as he accosted her with a wave of his cockedhat, saying that he was rejoiced to meet these two fair ladies,having been sent by the Princess of Denmark to inquire for thehealth of the Prince. She was very anxious to know more than couldbe learnt by formal inquiry, he said, and he was happy to have metthe young gentlewomen who could gratify him.

"We are in trust, sir, and have no right to speak of what passeswithin the royal household."

"Madam, I admire your discretion, but to the--(a-hem)--sister ofthe--(a-hem)--Prince of Wales it is surely uncalled for."

"Miss Woodford is so precise," said Jane Humphreys, with a giggle;"I do not know what harm can come of saying that His Royal Highnesspeaks and pines just as he did before."

"He is none the better for country air then?"

"Oh no? except that he cries louder. Such a time as we had lastnight! Mrs. Royer never slept a wink all the time I was there, butwalked about with him all night. You had the best of it, MissWoodford."

"He slept while I was there," said Anne briefly, not thinking itneedful to state that the tired nurse had handed the child over toher, and that he had fallen asleep in her arms. She tried to put anend to the conversation by going indoors, but she was vexed to findthat, instead of following her closely, Miss Humphreys was stilllingering with the equerry.

Anne found the household in commotion. Pauline met her, weepingbitterly, and saying the Prince had had a fit, and all hope wasover, and in the rockers' room, she found Hester Bridgemanexclaiming that her occupation was gone. Water-gruel, she had nodoubt, had been the death of the Prince. The Queen was come, andwellnigh distracted. She had sent out in quest of a wet-nurse, butit was too late; he was going the way of all Her Majesty's children.

Going down again together the two girls presently had to stand asideas the poor Queen, seeing and hearing nothing, came towards her ownroom with her handkerchief over her face. They pressed each other'shands awe-stricken, and went on to the nursery. There Mrs. Labadiewas kneeling over the cradle, her hood hanging over her face, cryingbitterly over the poor little child, who had a blue look about hisface, and seemed at the last gasp, his features contorted by aconvulsion.

At that moment Jane Humphreys was seen gently opening the door andletting in Colonel Sands, who moved as quietly as possible, to givea furtive look at the dying child. His researches were cut short,however. Lady Strickland, usually the gentlest of women, darted outand demanded what he was doing in her nursery.

He attempted to stammer some excuse about Princess Anne, but LadyStrickland only answered by standing pointing to the door and he wasforced to retreat in a very undignified fashion.

"Who brought him?" she demanded, when the door was shut. "ThoseCockpit folk are not to come prying here, hap what may!"

Miss Humphreys had sped away for fear of questions being asked, andattention was diverted by Mrs. Royer arriving with a stout, healthy-looking young woman in a thick home-spun cloth petticoat, nostockings, and old shoes, but with a clean white cap on her head--atilemaker's wife who had been captured in the village.

No sooner was the suffering, half-starved child delivered over toher than he became serene and contented. The water-gruel regime wasover, and he began to thrive from that time. Even when later in theafternoon the King himself brought in Colonel Sands, whom in the joyof his heart he had asked to dine with him, the babe lay tranquillyon the cradle, waving his little hands and looking happy.

The intrusion seemed to have been forgotten, but that afternoonAnne, who had been sent on a message to one of the Queen's ladies,more than suspected that she saw Jane in a deep recess of a windowin confabulation with the Colonel. And when they were alone at bed-time the girl said--

"Is it not droll? The Colonel cannot believe that 'tis the samechild. He has been joking and teasing me to declare that we have adead Prince hidden somewhere, and that the King showed him thebrick-bat woman's child."

"How can you prattle in that mischievous way--after what LadyStrickland said, too? You do not know what harm you may do!"

"Oh lack, it was all a jest!"

"I am not so sure that it was."

"But you will not tell of me, dear friend, you will not. I neversaw Lady Strickland like that; I did not know she could be in such arage."

"No wonder, when a fellow like that came peeping and prying like araven to see whether the poor babe was still breathing," cried Anneindignantly. "How could you bring him in?"

"Fellow indeed! Why he is a colonel in the Life-guards, and thePrincess's equerry; and who has a right to know about the child ifnot his own sister--or half-sister?"

"She is not a very loving sister," replied Anne. "You know well,Jane, how many would not be sorry to make out that it is as that manwould fain have you say."

"Well, I told him it was no such thing, and laughed the very notionto scorn."

"It were better not to talk with him at all."

"But you will not speak of it. If I were turned away my fatherwould beat me. Nay, I know not what he might not do to me. Youwill not tell, dear darling Portia, and I will love you for ever."

"I have no call to tell," said Anne coldly, but she was disgustedand weary, and moreover not at all sure that she, as the otherProtestant rocker, and having been in the Park on that same day, wasnot credited with some of the mischievous gossip that had passed.

"There, Portia, that is what you get by walking with that stupidHumphreys," said Oriana. "She knows no better than to blab to anyone who will be at the trouble to seem sweet upon her, though shemay get nothing by it."

"Would it be better if she did?" asked Anne.

"Oh well, we must all look out for ourselves, and I am sure there isno knowing what may come next. But I hear we are to move to Windsoras soon as the child is strong enough, so as to be farther out ofreach of the Cockpit tongues."

This proved to be true, but the Prince and his suite were not lodgedin the Castle itself, a house in the cloisters being thought moresuitable, and here the Queen visited her child daily, for since thatlast alarm she could not bear to be long absent from him. Suchemissaries as Colonel Sands did not again appear, but after thatprecedent Lady Strickland had become much more unwilling to allowany of those under her authority to go out into any public place,and the rockers seldom got any exercise except as swelling thePrince's train when he was carried out to take the air.

Anne looked with longing eyes at the Park, but a ramble there was aforbidden pleasure. She could not always even obtain leave toattend St. George's Chapel; the wish was treated as a sort ofweakness, or folly, and she was always the person selected to stayat home when any religious ceremony called away the rest of theestablishment.

As the King's god-daughter it was impressed on her that she ought toconform to his Church, and one of the many priests about the Courtwas appointed to instruct her. In the dearth of all intellectualintercourse, and the absolute deficiency of books, she could not butbecome deeply interested in the arguments. Her uncle had forearmedher with instruction, and she wrote to him on any difficulty whicharose, and this became the chief occupation of her mind, distractingher thoughts from the one great cloud that hung over her memory.Indeed one of the foremost bulwarks her feelings erected to fortifyher conscience against the temptations around, was the knowledgethat she would have, though of course under seal of confession, torelate that terrible story to a priest.

Hester Bridgeman could not imagine how her Portia could endure tohear the old English Prayer-book droned out. For her part, sheliked one thing or the other, either a rousing Nonconformist sermonin a meeting-house or a splendid Mass.

"But, after all," as Anne overheard her observing to Miss Dunord,"it may be all the better for us. What with her breeding and herforeign tongues, she would be sure to be set over our heads asunder-governess, or the like, if she were not such an obstinateheretic, and keeping that stupid Humphreys so. We could haveconverted her long ago, if it were not for that Woodford and for herCity grand-dame! Portia is the King's godchild, too, so it is justas well that she does not see what is for her own advantage."

"I do not care for promotion. I only want to save my own soul andhers," said Pauline. "I wish she would come over to the trueChurch, for I could love her."

And certainly Pauline Dunord's gentle devotional example, and herperfect rest and peace in the practice of her religion, were stronginfluences with Anne. She was waiting till circumstances shouldmake it possible to her to enter a convent, and in the meantime shelived a strictly devout life, abstracted as far as duty and kindnesspermitted from the little cabals and gossipry around.

Anne could not help feeling that the girl was as nearly a saint asany one she had ever seen--far beyond herself in goodness.Moreover, the Queen inspired strong affection. Mary Beatrice wasnot only a very beautiful person, full of the grace and dignity ofthe House of Este, but she was deeply religious, good and gentle,kindly and gracious to all who approached her, and devoted to herhusband and child. A word or look from her was always a delight,and Anne, by her knowledge of Italian, was able sometimes to obtaina smiling word or remark.

The little Prince, after those first miserable weeks of his life,had begun to thrive, and by and by manifested a decided preferencenot only for his beautiful mother, but for the fresh face, brightsmile, and shining brown eyes of Miss Woodford. She could almostalways, with nods and becks, avert a passion of roaring, whichsometimes went beyond the powers of even his foster-mother, thetiler's wife. The Queen watched with delight when he laughed andflourished his arms in response, and the King was summoned to seethe performance, which he requited by taking out a fat gold watchset with pearls, and presenting it to Anne, as his grave gloomy facelighted up with a smile.

"Are you yet one of us?" he asked, as she received his gift on herknee.

"No, sir, I cannot--"

"That must be amended. You have read his late Majesty's paper?"

"I have, sir."

"And seen Father Giverlai?"

"Yes, please your Majesty."

"And still you are not convinced. That must not be. I would gladlyconsider and promote you, but I can only have true Catholics aroundmy son. I shall desire Father Crump to see you."

CHAPTER XVIII: HALLOWMAS EVE

"This more strangeThan such a murder is."

Macbeth.

"Bambino mio, bambino mio," wailed Mary Beatrice, as she pressed herchild to her bosom, and murmured to him in her native tongue. "Anddid they say he was not his mother's son, his poor mother, whosedearest treasure he is! Oime, crudeli, crudelissimi! Even hissisters hate him and will not own him, the little jewel of hismother's heart!"

Anne, waiting in the window, was grieved to have overheard the wordswhich the poor Queen had poured out, evidently thinking no one nearcould understand her.

That evening there were orders to prepare for a journey to Whitehallthe next morning.

"And," said Hester Bridgeman, "I can tell you why, in allconfidence, but I have it from a sure hand. The Prince of Orange iscollecting a fleet and army to come and inquire into certainmatters, especially into the birth of a certain young gentleman wewot of."

"How can he have the insolence?" cried Anne.

"'Tis no great wonder, considering the vipers in the Cockpit," saidHester.

"But what will they do to us?" asked Jane Humphreys in terror.

"Nothing to you, my dear, nor to Portia; you are good Protestants,"said Hester with a sneer.

"Mrs. Royer told me it was for the christening," said Jane, "andthen we shall all have new suits. I am glad we are going back totown. It cannot be so mortal dull as 'tis here, with all the leavesfalling--enough to give one the vapours."

There were auguries on either hand in the palace that if the Princecame it would be only another Monmouth affair, and this made Anneshrink, for she had partaken of the grief and indignation ofWinchester at the cruel execution of Lady Lisle, and had heardrumours enough of the progress of the Assize to make her start inhorror when called to watch the red-faced Lord Chancellor Jeffreysgetting out of his coach.

It really seemed for the time as if the royal household wereconfident in this impression, though as soon as they were againsettled in Whitehall there was a very close examination of thewitnesses of the Prince's birth, and a report printed of theirevidence, enough it might be thought to satisfy any one; but JaneHumphreys, who went to spend a day at the Golden Lamb, her father'swarehouse, reported that people only laughed at it.

Anne's spirit burned at the injustice, and warmed the more towardsthe Queen and little Prince, whose pretty responses to her caressescould not but win her love. Moreover, Pauline's example continuedto attract her, and Father Crump was a better controversialist, orperhaps a better judge of character, than Pere Giverlai, and tookher on sides where she was more vulnerable, so as to make her beginto feel unsettled, and wonder whether she were not making a vainsacrifice, and holding out after all against the better way.

The sense of the possible gain, and disgust at the shallowconversions of some around her, helped to keep her back. She couldnot help observing that while Pauline persuaded, Hester had ceasedto persuade, and seemed rather willing to hinder her. Just beforethe State christening or rather admission into the Church, LadyPowys, in the name of the King and Queen, offered her the post ofsub-governess, which really would mean for the present chiefplayfellow to the little Prince, and would place her on an entirelydifferent platform of society from the comparatively menial one sheoccupied, but of course on the condition of conformity to Rome.

To be above the familiarity of Jane and Hester was no smalltemptation, but still she hesitated.

"Madam, I thank you, I thank their Majesties," she said, "but Icannot do it thus."

"I see what you mean, Miss Woodford," said Lady Powys, who was atruly noble woman. "Your motives must be above suspicion even toyourself. I respect you, and would not have made you the offerexcept by express command, but I still trust that when yourdisinterestedness is above suspicion you will still join us."

It was sore mortification when Hester Bridgeman was preferred to theoffice, for which she was far less fitted, being no favourite withthe babe, and being essentially vulgar in tastes and habits, andknowing no language save her own, and that ungrammatically and withan accent which no one could wish the Prince to acquire. Yet thereshe was, promoted to the higher grade of the establishment and atthe christening, standing in the front ranks, while Miss Woodfordwas left far in the rear among the servants.

A report of the Dutch fleet having been destroyed by a storm hadrestored the spirits of the Court; and in the nursery very littlewas known of the feelings of the kingdom at large. Dr. Woodford didnot venture on writing freely to his niece, lest he shouldcompromise her, and she only vaguely detected that he was uneasy.

So came All Saints' Day Eve, when there was to be a special servicelate in the evening at the Romanised Chapel Royal at St. James's,with a sermon by a distinguished Dominican, to which all the elderand graver members of the household were eager to go. And there wasanother very different attraction at the Cockpit, where good-naturedPrincess Anne had given permission for a supper, to be followed byburning of nuts and all the divinations proper to Hallowmas Eve, towhich were invited all the subordinates of the Whitehallestablishment who could be spared.

Pauline Dunord was as eager for the sermon as Jane Humphreys was forthe supper, and Hester Bridgeman was in an odd mood of uncertainty,evidently longing after the sports, but not daring to show that shedid so, and trying to show great desire to hear the holy man preach,together with a polite profession of self-denial in giving up herplace in case there should not be room for all. However, as itappeared that even the two chief nurses meant to combine sermon andthe latter end of the supper, she was at ease. The foster-motherand one of the Protestant rockers were supposed to be enough towatch over the Prince, but the former, who had been much petted andspoilt since she had been at the palace, and was a young creature,untrained and wilful, cried so much at the idea of missing themerrymaking, that as it was reckoned important to keep her in goodhumour and good spirits, Mrs. Labadie decided on winking at herabsence from the nursery, since Miss Woodford was quite competent tothe charge for the short time that both the church-goers and thesupper-goers would all be absent together.

"But are you not afraid to stay alone?" asked Mrs. Labadie, with alittle compunction.

"What is there to be afraid of?" asked Anne. "There are thesentinels at the foot of the stairs, and what should reach us here?"

"I would not be alone here," said more than one voice. "Nor I!"--"Nor I!"

"I tell you, no such thing," said Jane. "It was the last King. Iheard it from them that saw it, at least the lady's cousin. 'Twasin the long gallery, in a suit of plain black velvet, with whitemuslin ruffles and cravat quilled very neat. Why do you laugh, MissWoodford?"

This was too much for Anne, who managed to say, "Who was hislaundress?"

"I tell you I heard it from them that told no lies. The gentlemancould swear to it. He took a candle to him, and there was noughtbut the wainscot behind. Think of that."

"And that we should be living here!" said another voice. "I neverventure about the big draughty place alone at night," said thelaundress.

"No! nor I would not for twenty princes," added the sempstress.

"Nay, I have heard steps," said Mrs. Royer, "and wailing--wailing.No wonder after all that has happened here. Oh yes, steps as of theguard being turned out!"

"That is like our Squire's manor-house, where--"

Every one contributed a story, and only the announcement of HerMajesty's approach put an end to these reminiscences.

Anne held to her purpose. She had looked forward to this time ofsolitude, for she wanted leisure to consider the situation, andfairly to revolve the pleas by which Father Crump had shaken her,more in feeling than in her reason, and made her question whetherher allegiance to her mother and uncle, and her disgust atinterested conversions, were not making her turn aside from whatmight be the only true Church, the Mother of Saints, and therewithperversely give up earthly advancement. But, oh! how to write toher uncle.

The very intention made her imagination and memory too powerful forthe consideration of controversy. She went back first to a merryHallowmas Eve long ago, among the Archfield party and otherWinchester friends, and how the nuts had bounced in a manner whichmade the young ones shout in ecstasy of glee, but seemed todisplease some of the elders, and had afterwards been the occasionof her being told that it was all folly, and therewith informed ofCharles Archfield's contract to poor little Alice Fitzhubert. Thencame other scenes. All the various ghostly tales she had heard, andas she sat with her knitting in the shaded room with no sound butthe soft breathing of her little charge in his cradle, no light savefrom a shaded lamp and the fire on the hearth, strange thoughts anddreams floated over her; she started at mysterious cracks in thewainscotting from time to time, and beheld in the dark corners ofthe great room forms that seemed grotesque and phantom-like till shewent up to them and resolved them into familiar bits of furniture orgowns and caps of Mrs. Labadie. She repeated half aloud numerousPsalms and bits of poetry, but in the midst would come somedisturbing noise, a step or a shout from the street, though thechamber being at the back of the house looking into the Park few ofsuch sounds penetrated thither. She began to think of KingCharles's last walk from St. James's to Whitehall, and of the fatalwindow of the Banqueting-hall which had been pointed out to her, andthen her thoughts flew back again to that vault in the castle yard,and she saw only too vividly in memory that open vault, veiledpartly by nettles and mulleins, which was the unblest, unknown graveof the old playfellow who had so loved her mother and herself.Perhaps she had hitherto more dwelt on and pitied the living thanthe dead, as one whom fears and prayers still concerned, but now asshe thought of the lively sprite-like being who had professed suchaffection for her, and for whom her mother had felt so much, andrecollected him so soon and suddenly cut down and consigned to thatdreary darkness, the strange yearning spirit dismissed to theunknown world, instead of her old terror and repulsion, a greattenderness and compunction came over her, and she longed to jointhose who would in two days more be keeping All Souls' Day inintercessions for their departed, so as to atone for her pastdislike; and there was that sort of feeling about her which can onlybe described by the word 'eerie.' To relieve it Anne walked to thewindow and undid a small wicket in the shutter, so as to look outinto the quiet moonlight park where the trees cast their longshadows on the silvery grass, and there was a great calm that seemedto reach her heart and spirits.

Suddenly, across the sward towards the palace there came the slight,impish, almost one-sided figure, with the peculiar walk, swiftthough suggestive of a limp, the elfish set of the plume, theforeign adjustment of short cloak. Anne gazed with wide-stretchedeyes and beating heart, trying to rally her senses and believe itfancy, when the figure crossed into a broad streak of light cast bythe lamp over the door, the face was upturned for a moment. It wasdeadly pale, and the features were beyond all doubt PeregrineOakshott's.

She sprang back from the window, dropped on her knees, with her facehidden in her hands, and was hardly conscious till sounds of theothers returning made her rally her powers so as to prevent allinquiries or surmises. It was Mrs. Labadie and Pauline Dunord, theformer to see that all was well with the Prince before repairing tothe Cockpit.

"How pale you are!" she exclaimed. "Have you seen anything?"

"I--It may be nothing. He is dead!" stammered Anne.

"Oh then, 'tis naught but a maid's fancies," said the nurse good-humouredly. "Miss Dunord is in no mind for the sports, so she willstay with His Highness, and you had best come with me and drive thecobwebs out of your brain."

"Indeed, I thank you, ma'am, but I could not," said Anne.

"You had best, I tell you, shake these megrims out of your brain,"said Mrs. Labadie; but she was in too great haste not to lose hershare of the amusements to argue the point, and the two young womenwere left together. Pauline was in a somewhat exalted state, fullof the sermon on the connection of the Church with the invisibleworld.

"You have seen one of your poor dead," she said. "Oh, may it not bethat he came to implore you to have pity, and join the Church, whereyou could intercede and offer the Holy Sacrifice for him?"

Anne started. This seemed to chime in with proclivities of poorPeregrine's own, and when she thought of his corpse in thatunhallowed vault, it seemed to her as if he must be calling on herto take measures for his rest, both of body and of spirit. Yetsomething seemed to seal her tongue. She could not open her lips onwhat she had seen, and while Pauline talked on, repeating the sermonwhich had so deeply touched her feelings, Anne heard withoutlistening to aught besides her own perturbations, mentally debatingwhether she could endure to reveal the story to Father Crump, if sheconfessed to him, or whether she should write to her uncle; and sheeven began to compose the letter in her own mind, with the terriblerevelation that must commence it, but every moment the idea becamemore formidable. How transfer her own heavy burthen to her uncle,who might feel bound to take steps that would cut young Archfieldoff from parents, sister, child, and home. Or supposing Dr.Woodford disbelieved the apparition of to-night, the whole would bediscredited in his eyes, and he might suppose the summer morning'sduel as much a delusion of her fancy as the autumn evening'sphantom, and what evidence had she to adduce save Charles's despair,Peregrine's absence, and what there might be in the vault?

Yet if all that Father Crump and Pauline said was true, that dearuncle might be under a fatal delusion, and it might be the best hopefor herself--nay, even for that poor restless spirit--to separateherself from them. Here was Pauline talking of the blessedness ofbeing able to offer prayers on 'All Souls' Day' for all those ofwhose ultimate salvation there were fears, or who might be in astate of suffering. It even startled her as she thought of hermother, whom she always gave thanks for as one departed in faith andfear. Would Father Crump speak of her as one in a state ofinevitable ignorance to be expiated in the invisible world? Itshocked the daughter as almost profane. Yet if it were true, andprayers and masses could aid her?

Altogether Anne was in a mood on which the voices broke strangelyreturning from the supper full of news. Jane Humphreys was volubleon her various experiments. The nuts had burnt quietly together,and that was propitious to the Life-guardsman, Mr. Shaw, who hadshared hers; but on the other hand, the apple-paring thrown over hershoulder had formed a P, and he whom she had seen in the vista oflooking-glasses had a gold chain but neither a uniform nor a P inhis name, and Mrs. Buss declared that it meant that she should bethree times married, and the last would be an Alderman, if not LordMayor; and Mrs. Royer was joking Miss Bridgeman on the I of herapple-paring, which could stand for nothing but a certain Incleamong 'the Cockpit folk,' who was her special detestation.

Princess Anne and her husband had come down to see the nuts flying,and had laughed enough to split their sides, till Lord Cornbury camein and whispered something to Prince George, who said, "Est ilpossible?" and spoke to the Princess, and they all went awaytogether. Yes, and the Bishop of Bath and Wells, who had beenlaughing before looked very grave, and went with them.

"Oh!" exclaimed Anne, "is the Bishop of Bath and Wells here?"

"Yes, in spite of his disgrace. I hear he is to preach in yourProtestant chapel to-morrow."

Anne had brought a letter of introduction from her uncle in case sheshould have any opportunity of seeing his old fellow canon, who hadoften been kind to her when she was a little girl at Winchester.She was in many minds of hope and fear as to the meeting him orspeaking to him, under the consciousness of the possible defectionfrom his Church, and the doubt and dread whether to confide hersecret and consult him. However, the extreme improbability of herbeing able to do so made the yearning for the sight of a Winchesterface predominate, and her vigil of the night past made the nurseryauthorities concede that she had fairly earned her turn to go tochurch in the forenoon, since she was obstinate enough to want torun after an old heretic so-called Bishop who had so pragmaticallywithstood His Majesty. Jane Humphreys went too, for though she wasnot fond of week-day services, any escape from the nursery waswelcome, and there was a chance of seeing Lady Churchill's newmantle.

In this she was disappointed, for none of the grandees were present,indeed it was whispered as the two girls made their way to thechapel, that there was great excitement over the Declaration of thePrince of Orange, which had arrived last night, that he had beeninvited by the lords spiritual and temporal to take up the cause ofthe liberties of England, and inquire into the evidence of the birthof the Prince of Wales.

People shrugged their shoulders, but looked volumes, though it wasno time nor place for saying more; and when in the chapel, thatcountenance of Bishop Ken, so beautiful in outward form, soexpressive of strength, sweetness, and devotion, brought back such aflood of old associations to Anne, that it was enough to change thewhole current of her thoughts and make her her own mother's childagain, even before he opened his mouth. She caught his sweet voicein the Psalms, and closing her eyes seemed to be in the Cathedralonce more among those mighty columns and arches; and when he beganhis sermon, on the text, 'Let the Saints be joyful with glory, letthem rejoice in their beds,' she found the Communion of Saints inParadise and on earth knit together in one fellowship as truly andpreciously brought home to her as ever it had been to Pauline, andmoreover when she thought of her mother, 'the lurid mist' wasdispelled which had so haunted her the night before.

The longing to speak to him awoke; and as he was quitting the chapelin full procession his kindly eye lit upon her with a look ofrecognition; and before she had moved from her place, one of theattendant clergy came back by his desire to conduct her to him.

He held out his hand as she courtesied low.

"Mistress Woodford," he said, "my old friend's niece! He wrote tome of you, but I have had no opportunity of seeing you before."

"Oh, my Lord! I was so much longing to see and speak with you."

"I am lodging at Lambeth," said the Bishop, "and it is too far totake you with me thither, but perhaps my good brother here," turningto the chaplain, "can help us to a room where we can be private."

This was done; the chaplain's parlour at the Cockpit was placed attheir disposal, and there a few kind words from Bishop Ken led tothe unburthening of her heavy heart. Of Ken's replies to thecontroversial difficulties there is no need to tell. Indeed,ambition was far more her temptation than any real difficulties asto doctrine. Her dissatisfaction at being unable to answer thequestions raised by Father Crump was exaggerated as the excuse andcover to herself of her craving for escape from her presentsubordinate post; and this the Bishop soon saw, and tenderly butfirmly drew her to own both this and to confess the ambitious spiritwhich had led her into this scene of temptation. "It was trueindeed," he said, "that trial by our own error is hardest toencounter, but you have repented, and by God's grace, my child, Itrust you will be enabled to steer your course aright through thetrials of loyalty to our God and to our King that are coming upon usall. Ever remember God and the plain duty first, His anointed next.Is there more that you would like to tell me? for you still bear atroubled look, and I have full time."

Then Anne told him all the strange adventure of Portchester Castle,and even of the apparition of the night before. That gentleness andsympathy seemed to draw out all that was in her heart, and to hersurprise, he did not treat the story of that figure as necessarily adelusion. He had known and heard too much of spiritualmanifestations to the outward senses to declare that such thingscould not be.

What she had seen might be explained by one of four hypotheses. Itwas either a phantom of her brain, and her being fully awake,although recently dwelling on the recollection, rendered that idealess probable, or the young man had not been killed and she had seenhim in propria persona.

She had Charles Archfield's word that the death was certain. He hadnever been heard of again, and if alive, the walk before Whitehallwas the last place where he would be. As to mistaking any one elsefor him, the Bishop remembered enough of the queer changeling elf toagree with her that it was not a very probable contingency. And ifit were indeed a spirit, why should it visit her? There had beenone good effect certainly in the revival of home thoughts andturning her mind from the allurements of favour, but that did notseem to account for the spirit seeking her out.

Was it, Anne faltered, a sign that she ought to confess all, for thesake of procuring Christian burial for him. Yet how should she,when she had promised silence to young Archfield? True, it was forhis wife's sake, and she was dead; but there were the rest of hisfamily and himself to be considered. What should she do?

The Bishop thought a little while, then said that he did not believethat she ought to speak without Mr. Archfield's consent, unless shesaw any one else brought into danger by her silence. If it everbecame possible, he thought, that she should ascertain whether thebody were in the vault, and if so, it might be possible to procureburial for it, perhaps without identification, or at any ratewithout making known what could only cause hostility and distressbetween the two families, unless the young man himself on his returnshould make the confession. This the Bishop evidently consideredthe sounder, though the harder course, but he held that Anne had noright to take the initiative. She could only wait, and bear herload alone; but the extreme kindness and compassion with which hetalked to her soothed and comforted her so much that she feltinfinitely relieved and strengthened when he dismissed her with hisblessing, and far happier and more at peace than she had been sincethat terrible summer morning, though greatly humbled, and taught torepent of her aspirations after earthly greatness, and to accept herpresent condition as a just retribution, and a trial of constancy.

"Am I--oh! am I going home?" thought Anne. "My uncle will be atWinchester. I am glad of it. I could not yet bear to seePortchester again. That Shape would be there. Yet how shall I dealwith what seems laid on me? But oh! the joy of escaping from thisweary, weary court! Oh, the folly that took me hither! Now thatthe Prince is gone, Lady Strickland will surely speak to the Queenfor my dismissal."

There had been seventeen days of alarms, reports, and counter-reports, and now the King, with the Prince of Denmark, had gone tojoin the army on Salisbury Plain, and at the same time the littlePrince of Wales had been sent off to his half-brother, the Duke ofBerwick, at Portsmouth, under charge of Lady Powys, there to beembarked for France. Anne had been somewhat disappointed at notgoing with them, hoping that when at Portsmouth or in passingWinchester she might see her uncle and obtain her release, for shehad no desire to be taken abroad; but it was decreed otherwise.Miss Dunord went, rejoicing and thankful to be returning to France,and the other three rockers remained.

There had already been more than one day of alarms and tumults. TheBody-guards within were always on duty; the Life-guards without wereconstantly patrolling; and on the 5th of November, when the Princeof Orange was known to be near at hand, and was in fact actuallylanding at Torbay, the mob had with difficulty been restrained fromburning in effigy, not only Guy Fawkes, but Pope, cardinals, andmitred bishops, in front of the palace, and actually paraded themall, with a figure of poor Sir Edmondbury Godfrey bearing his headin his hand, tied on horseback behind a Jesuit, full before thewindows, with yells of

"The Pope, the Pope,Up the ladder and down the rope,"

and clattering of warming-pans.

Jane Humphreys was dreadfully frightened. Anne found her crouchingclose to her bed, with the curtains wrapped round her. "Have theygot in?" she cried. "O Miss Woodford, how shall we make thembelieve we are good Protestants?"

And when this terror had subsided, and it was well known that theDutch were at Exeter, there was another panic, for one of the Life-guardsmen had told her to beware, since if the Royal troops atHounslow were beaten, the Papists would surely take their revenge.

"I am to scream from the windows to Mr. Shaw," she said; but whatgood will that do if the priests and the Frenchmen have strangledme? And perhaps he won't be on guard."

"He was only trying to frighten you," suggested Anne.

"Dear me, Miss Woodford, aren't you afraid? You have the stomach ofa lion."

"Why, what would be the good of hurting us?"

However, Anne was not at all surprised, when on the very evening ofthe Prince's departure, old Mrs. Humphreys, a venerable-looking damein handsome but Puritanically-fashioned garments, came in a hackneycoach to request in her son's name that her granddaughter mightreturn with her, as her occupation was at an end.

Jane was transported with joy.

"Ay, ay," said the grandmother, "look at you now, and think howcrazy you were to go to the palace, though 'twas always against myjudgment."

"Ah, I little knew how mortal dull it would be!" said Jane.

"Ye've found it no better than the husks that the swine did eat, eh?So much the better and safer for your soul, child."

Nobody wanted to retain Jane, and while she was hastily putting herthings together, the grandmother turned to Anne: "And you, MistressWoodford, from what I hear, you have been very good in keeping mysilly child stanch to her religion and true to her duty. If ever ona pinch you needed a friend in London, my son and I would be proudto serve you--Master Joshua Humphreys, at the Golden Lamb,Gracechurch Street, mind you. No one knows what may hap in thesestrange and troublesome times, and you might be glad of a house togo to till you can send to your own friends--that is, if we are notall murdered by the Papists first."

Though Anne did not expect such a catastrophe as this, she wasreally grateful for the offer, and thought it possible that shemight avail herself of it, as she had not been able to communicatewith any of her mother's old friends, and Bishop Ken was not to herknowledge still in London.

She watched anxiously for the opportunity of asking Lady Stricklandwhether she might apply for her dismissal, and write to her uncle tofetch her home.

"Child," said the lady, "I think you love the Queen."

"Indeed I do, madam."

"It is well that at this juncture all Protestants should not leaveher. You are a gentlewoman in manner, and can speak her nativetongue, friends are falling from her, scarcely ladies are leftenough to make a fit appearance around her; if you are faithful toher, remain, I entreat of you."

There was no resisting such an appeal, and Anne remained in therooms now left bare and empty, until a message was brought to her tocome to the Queen. Mary Beatrice sat in a chair by her fire,looking sad and listless, her eyes red with weeping, but she gaveher sweet smile as the girl entered, and held out her hand, sayingin her sweet Italian, "You are faithful, Signorina Anna! you remain!That is well; but now my son is gone, Anna, you must be mine. Imake you my reader instead of his rocker."

As Anne knelt on one knee to kiss hands with tears in her eyes, theQueen impulsively threw her arms round her neck and kissed her."Ah, you loved him, and he loved you, il mio tesorino?"

Promotion _had_ come--how strangely. She had to enter on her dutiesat once, and to read some chapters of an Italian version of theImitation. A reader was of a higher grade of importance than arocker, and for the ensuing days, when not in attendance on theQueen, Anne was the companion of Lady Strickland and LadyOglethorpe. In the absence of the King and Prince, the Queenreceived Princess Anne at her own table, and Lady Churchill and LadyFitzhardinge joined that of her ladies-in-waiting.

Lady Churchill, with her long neck, splendid hair and complexion,short chin, and sparkling blue eyes, was beautiful to look at, butnot at all disposed to be agreeable to the Queen's ladies, whom shetreated with a sort of blunt scorn, not at all disguised by theforms of courtesy. However, she had, to their relief, a good dealof leave of absence just then to visit her children, as indeed theladies agreed that she did pretty much as she chose, and that thefaithful Mrs. Morley was somewhat afraid of the dear Mrs. Freeman.

One evening in coming up some steps Princess Anne entangled her footin her pink taffetas petticoat, nearly fell, and tore a large rent,besides breaking the thread of the festoons of seed pearls whichbordered it, and scattering them on the floor.

"Lack-a-day! Lack-a-day!" sighed she, as after a little screamingshe gathered herself up again. "That new coat! How shall I everface Danvers again such a figure? She's an excellent tirewoman, butshe will be neither to have nor to hold when she sees that gown--that she set such store by! Nay, I can hardly step for it."

"I think I could repair it, with Her Majesty's and your RoyalHighness's permission," said Anne, who was creeping about on herknees picking up the pearls."

"Oh! do! do! There's a good child, and then Danvers and Dawson needknow nothing about it," cried the Princess in great glee. "Youremember Dawson, don't you, little Woodie, as we used to call you,and how she used to rate us when we were children if we soiled ourfrocks?"

So, in the withdrawing-room, Anne sat on the floor with needle andsilk, by the light of the wax candles, deftly repairing the rent,and then threading the scattered pearls, and arranging the festoonso as to hide the darn. The Princess was delighted, and while thepoor wife lay back in her chair, thankful that behind her fan shecould give way to her terrible anxieties about her little son, whomight be crossing to France, and her husband, suffering from fearfulnose-bleeding, and wellnigh alone among traitors and deserters, thestep-daughter, on the other side of the great hearth, chattered awaycomplacently to 'little Woodford.'

"Do you recollect old Dawson, and how she used to grumble when Iwent to sup with the Duchess--my own mother--you know, because sheused to give me chocolate, and she said it made me scream at night,and be over fat by day? Ah! that was before you used to come amongus. It was after I went to France to my poor aunt of Orleans. Iremember she never would let us kiss her for fear of spoiling hercomplexion, and Mademoiselle and I did so hate living maigre on thefast days. I was glad enough to get home at last, and then mysister was jealous because I talked French better than she did."

So the Princess prattled on without needing much reply, until hernamesake had finished her work, with which she was well pleased, andpromised to remember her. To Anne it was an absolute marvel how shecould thus talk when she knew that her husband had deserted herfather in his need, and that things were in a most criticalposition.

The Queen could not refrain from a sigh of relief when her step-daughter had retired to the Cockpit; and after seeking her sleeplessbed, she begged Anne, "if it did not too much incommode her, to readto her from the Gospel."

The next day was Sunday, and Anne felt almost as if deserting hercause, when going to the English service in Whitehall Chapel Royal,now almost emptied except of the Princess's suite, and some of thesehad the bad taste and profanity to cough and chatter all through thespecial prayer drawn up by the Archbishop for the King's safety.

People were not very reverent, and as all stood up at the end of theAdvent Sunday service to let the Princess sweep by in her glitteringgreen satin petticoat, peach-coloured velvet train, and feather-crowned head, she laid a hand on Anne's arm, and whispered, "Followme to my closet, little Woodford."

There was no choice but to obey, as the Queen would not require herreader till after dinner, and Anne followed after the variousattendants, who did not seem very willing to forward a privateinterview with a possible rival, though, as Anne supposed, theobject must be to convey some message to the Queen. By the time shearrived and had been admitted to the inner chamber or dressing-room,the Princess had thrown off her more cumbrous finery, and sat atease in an arm-chair. She nodded her be-curled head, and said, "Youcan keep a secret, little Woodie?"

"I can, madam, but I do not love one," said Anne, thinking of hermost burthensome one.

"Well, no need to keep this long. You are a good young maiden, andmy own poor mother's godchild, and you are handy and notable. Youdeserve better preferment than ever you will get in that Popishhousehold, where your religion is in danger. Now, I am not going tobe in jeopardy here any longer, nor let myself be kept hostage forhis Highness. Come to my rooms at bedtime. Slip in when I wish theQueen good-night, and I'll find an excuse. Then you shall come withme to--no, I'll not say where, and I'll make your fortune, onlymum's the word."

"But--Your Royal Highness is very good, but I am sworn to the Princeand Queen. I could not leave them without permission."

"Pooh! What's your oath to a mere pretender? Besides, consideryour fortune. Rocker to a puling babe--even if he was what they sayhe is. And don't build on the Queen's favour--even if she remainswhat she is now, she is too much beset with Papists and foreignersto do anything for you."

"I do not," Anne began to say, but the Princess gave her no time.

"Besides, pride will have a fall, and if you are a good maid, andhold your tongue, and serve me well in this strait, I'll make you mymaid of honour, and marry you so that you shall put Lady before yourname. Ay, and get good preferment for your uncle, who has had onlya poor stall from the King here."

Anne repressed an inclination to say this was not the way in whichher uncle would wish to get promotion, and only replied, "Your RoyalHighness is very good, but--"

Whereat the Princess, in a huff, exclaimed, "Oh, very well, if youchoose to be torn to pieces by the mob, and slaughtered by thepriests, like poor Godfrey, and burnt by the Papists at last, unlessyou go to Mass, you may stay for aught I care, and joy go with you.I thought I was doing you a kindness for my poor mother's sake, butit seems you know best. If you like to cast in your lot with thePope, I wash my hands of you."

Accordingly Anne courtesied herself off, not seriously alarmed as tothe various catastrophes foretold by the Princess, though a littleshaken in nerves. Here then was another chance of promotion,certainly without treason to her profession of faith, but so offeredthat honour could not but revolt against it, though in truth poorPrincess Anne was neither so foolish nor so heartless a woman as sheappeared in the excitement to which an uneasy conscience, theexpectation of a great enterprise, and a certain amount of terrorhad worked her up; but she had high words again in the evening, aswas supposed, with the Queen. Certainly Anne found her own RoyalMistress weeping and agitated, though she only owned to being veryanxious about the health of the King, who had had a second violentattack of bleeding at the nose, and she did not seem consoled by theassurances of her elder attendants that the relief had probablysaved him from a far more dangerous attack. Again Anne read to hertill a late hour, but next morning was strangely disturbed.

The Royal household had not been long dressed, and breakfast hadjust been served to the ladies, when loud screams were heard, moststartling in the unsettled and anxious state of affairs. The Queen,pale and trembling, came out of her chamber with her hair on hershoulders. "Tell me at once, for pity's sake. Is it my husband ormy son?" she asked with clasped hands, as two or three of thePrincess's servants rushed forward.

"The Princess, the Princess!" was the cry, "the priests havemurdered her."

"What have you done with her, madam?" rudely demanded Mrs. Buss, oneof the lost lady's nurses.

Mary Beatrice drew herself up with grave dignity, saying, "I supposeyour mistress is where she likes to be. I know nothing of her, butI have no doubt that you will soon hear of her."

There was something in the Queen's manner that hushed the outcry inher presence, but the women, with Lady Clarendon foremost of them,continued to seek up and down the two palaces as if they thought thesubstantial person of the Princess Anne could be hidden in acupboard.

Anne, in the first impulse, exclaimed, "She is gone!"

In a moment Mrs. Royer turned, "Gone, did you say? Do you know it?"

"You knew it and kept it secret!" cried Lady Strickland.

"A traitor too!" said Lady Oglethorpe, in her vehement Irish tone."I would not have thought it of Nanny Moore's daughter!" and sheturned her eyes in sad reproach on Anne.

"If you know, tell me where she is gone," cried Mrs. Buss, and thecry was re-echoed by the other women, while Anne's startled "Icannot tell! I do not know!" was unheeded.

Only the Queen raising her hand gravely said, "Silence! What isthis?"

"Miss Woodford knew."

"And never told!" cried the babble of voices.

"Come hither, Mistress Woodford," said the Queen. "Tell me, do youknow where Her Highness is?"

"No, please your Majesty," said Anne, trembling from head to foot."I do not know where she is."

"Did you know of her purpose?"

"Your Majesty pardon me. She called me to her closet yesterday andpledged me to secrecy before I knew what she would say."

"Only youthful inexperience will permit that pledge to be implied inmatters of State," said the Queen. "Continue, Mistress Woodford;what did she tell you?"

"She said she feared to be made a hostage for the Prince of Denmark,and meant to escape, and she bade me come to her chamber at night togo with her."

"And wherefore did you not? You are of her religion," said theQueen bitterly.

"Madam, how could I break mine oath to your Majesty and His RoyalHighness?"

"And you thought concealing the matter according to that oath? Nay,nay, child, I blame you not. It was a hard strait between yourhonour to her and your duty to the King and to me, and I cannot butbe thankful to any one who does regard her word. But this desertionwill be a sore grief to His Majesty."

Mary Beatrice was fairer-minded than the women, who looked askanceat the girl, Princess Anne's people resenting that one of the otherhousehold should have been chosen as confidante, and the Queen'sbeing displeased that the secret had been kept. But at that momentfrightful yells and shouts arose, and a hasty glance from thewindows showed a mass of men, women, and children howling for theirPrincess. They would tear down Whitehall if she were not deliveredup to them. However, a line of helmeted Life-guards on their heavyhorses was drawn up between, with sabres held upright, and thereseemed no disposition to rush upon these. Lord Clarendon, uncle tothe Princess, had satisfied himself that she had really escaped, andhe now came out and assured the mob, in a stentorian voice, that hewas perfectly satisfied of his niece's safety, waving the letter shehad left on her toilet-table.

The mob shouted, "Bless the Princess! Hurrah for the Protestantfaith! No warming-pans!" but in a good-tempered mood; and the poorlittle garrison breathed more freely; but Anne did not feel herselfforgiven. She was in a manner sent to Coventry, and treated as ifshe were on the enemy's side. Never had her proud nature sufferedso much, and she shed bitter tears as she said to herself, "It isvery unjust! What could I have done? How could I stop Her Highnessfrom speaking? Could they expect me to run in and accuse her? Oh,that I were at home again! Mother, mother, you little know! Ofwhat use am I now?"

It was the very question asked by Hester Bridgeman, whom she foundpacking her clothes in her room.

"Take care that this is sent after me," she said, "when a messengerI shall send calls for it."

"What, you have your dismissal?"

"No, I should no more get it than you have done. They cannot affordto let any one go, you see, or they will have to dress up thechambermaids to stand behind the Queen's chair. I have settled itwith my cousin, Harry Bridgeman, I shall mix with the throng thatcome to ask for news, and be off with him before the crowd breaksin, as they will some of these days, for the guards are but half-hearted. My Portia, why did not you take a good offer, and go withthe Princess?"

"I thought it would be base."

"And much you gained by it! You are only suspected and accused."

"I can't be a rat leaving a sinking ship."

"That is courteous, but I forgive it, Portia, as I know you willrepent of your folly. But you never did know which side to look forthe butter."

Perhaps seeing how ugly desertion and defection looked in othersmade constancy easier to Anne, much as she longed for the Close atWinchester, and she even thought with a hope of the Golden Lamb,Gracechurch, as an immediate haven sure to give her a welcome.

Her occupation of reading to the Queen was ended by the King'sreturn, so physically exhausted by violent nose-bleeding, sodespondent at the universal desertion, and so broken-hearted at hisdaughter's defection, that his wife was absorbed in attending uponhim.

Anne began to watch for an opportunity to demand a dismissal, whichshe thought would exempt her from all blame, but she was surprisedand a little dismayed by being summoned to the King in the Queen'schamber. He was lying on a couch clad in a loose dressing-gowninstead of his laced coat, and a red night-cap replacing his heavyperuke, and his face was as white and sallow as if he wererecovering from a long illness.

"Little godchild," he said, holding out his hand as Anne made herobeisance, "the Queen tells me you can read well. I have a fancy tohear."

Immensely relieved at the kindness of his tone, Anne courtesied, andmurmured out her willingness.

Anne felt her task a hard one when the King pointed to the third Actof Shakespeare's Richard II. She steeled herself and strengthenedher voice as best she could, and struggled on till she came to--

"I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,My gay apparel for an almsman's gown,My figured goblets for a dish of wood,My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff,My subjects for a pair of carved saints,And my large kingdom for a little grave,A little, little grave."

There she fairly broke down, and sobbed.

"Little one, little one," said James, you are sorry for poorRichard, eh?"

"Oh, sir!" was all she could say.

"And you are in disgrace, they tell me, because my daughter chose totry to entice you away," said James, "and you felt bound not tobetray her. Never mind; it was an awkward case of conscience, andthere's not too much faithfulness to spare in these days. We shallknow whom to trust to another time. Can you continue now? I wouldtake a lesson how, 'with mine own hands to give away my crown.'"

It was well for Anne that fresh tidings were brought in at thatmoment, and she had to retire, with the sore feeling turned into anenthusiastic pity and loyalty, which needed the relief of sobs andmental vows of fidelity. She felt herself no longer in disgracewith her Royal master and mistress, but she was not in favour withher few companions left--all who could not get over her secrecy, andthought her at least a half traitor as well as a heretic.

Whitehall was almost in a state of siege, the turbulent mobcontinually coming to shout, 'No Popery!' and the like, though theyproceeded no farther. The ministers and other gentlemen came andwent, but the priests and the ladies durst not venture out for fearof being recognised and insulted, if not injured. Bad news came infrom day to day, and no tidings of the Prince of Wales being insafety in France. Once Anne received a letter from her uncle, whichcheered her much.

DEAR CHILD--So far as I can gather, your employment is at an end,if it be true as reported that the Prince of Wales is atPortsmouth, with the intent that he should be carried to France;but the gentlemen of the navy seem strongly disposed to preventsuch a transportation of the heir of the realm to a foreigncountry. I fear me that you are in a state of doubt and anxiety,but I need not exhort your good mother's child to be true andloyal to her trust and to the Anointed of the Lord in all thingslawful at all costs. If you are left in any distress orperplexity, go either to Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe's house, or tothat of my good old friend, the Dean of Westminster; and as soonas I hear from you I will endeavour to ride to town and bring youhome to my house, which is greatly at a loss without its youngmistress.

The letter greatly refreshed Anne's spirits, and gave her somethingto look forward to, giving her energy to stitch at a set of lawncuffs and bands for her uncle, and think with the more pleasure of areturn that his time of residence at Winchester lay between her andthat vault in the castle.

There were no more attempts made at her conversion. Every one wastoo anxious and occupied, and one or more of the chiefly obnoxiouspriests were sent privately away from day to day. While summerfriends departed, Anne often thought of Bishop Ken's counsel as toloyalty to Heaven and man.

CHAPTER XX: THE FLIGHT

"Storms may rush in, and crimes and woes Deform that peaceful bower;They may not mar the deep repose Of that immortal flower.Though only broken hearts be found To watch his cradle by,No blight is on his slumbers sound, No touch of harmful eye."

KEBLE.

The news was even worse and worse in that palace of despondency andterror. Notice had arrived that Lord Dartmouth was withheld fromdespatching the young Prince to France by his own scruples and thoseof the navy; and orders were sent for the child's return. Then camea terrible alarm. The escort sent to meet him were reported to havebeen attacked by the rabble on entering London and dispersed, sothat each man had to shift for himself.

There was a quarter of an hour which seemed many hours of fearfulsuspense, while King and Queen both knelt at their altar, praying inagony for the child whom they pictured to themselves in the hands ofthe infuriated mob, too much persuaded of his being an imposture topity his unconscious innocence. No one who saw the blanched cheeksand agonised face of Mary Beatrice, or James's stern, mute misery,could have believed for a moment in the cruel delusion that he wasno child of theirs.

The Roman Catholic women were with them. To enter the oratory wouldin those circumstances have been a surrender of principle, but nonethe less did Anne pray with fervent passion in her chamber for pityfor the child, and comfort for his parents. At last there was astir, and hurrying out to the great stair, Anne saw a man in plainclothes replying in an Irish accent to the King, who was supportingthe Queen with his arm. Happily the escort had missed the Prince ofWales. They had been obliged to turn back to London without meetinghim, and from that danger he had been saved.

A burst of tears and a cry of fervent thanksgiving relieved theQueen's heart, and James gave eager thanks instead of the reprimandthe colonel had expected for his blundering.

A little later, another messenger brought word that Lord and LadyPowys had halted at Guildford with their charge. A Frenchgentleman, Monsieur de St. Victor, was understood to have undertakento bring him to London--understood--for everything was whisperedrather than told among the panic-stricken women. No one who knewthe expectation could go to bed that night except that the King andQueen had--in order to disarm suspicion--to go through theaccustomed ceremonies of the coucher. The ladies sat or lay ontheir beds intently listening, as hour after hour chimed from theclocks.

At last, at about three in the morning, the challenge of thesentinels was heard from point to point. Every one started up, andhurried almost pell-mell towards the postern door. The King andQueen were both descending a stair leading from the King's dressing-room, and as the door was cautiously opened, it admitted a figure ina fur cloak, which he unfolded, and displayed the sleeping face ofthe infant well wrapped from the December cold.

With rapture the Queen gathered him into her arms, and the fatherkissed him with a vehemence that made him awake and cry. St. Victorhad thought it safer that his other attendants should come in bydegrees in the morning, and thus Miss Woodford was the only actuallyeffective nursery attendant at hand. His food was waiting by thefire in his own sleeping chamber, and thither he was carried. Therethe Queen held him on her lap, while Anne fed him, and he smiled ather and held out his arms.

The King came, and making a sign to Anne not to move, stoodwatching.

Presently he said, "She has kept one secret, we may trust her withanother."

"Oh, not yet, not yet," implored the Queen. "Now I have both mytreasures again, let me rest in peace upon them for a little while."

The King turned away with eyes full of tears while Anne was lullingthe child to sleep. She wondered, but durst not ask the Queen,where was the tiler's wife; but later she learnt from Miss Dunord,that the woman had been so terrified by the cries of the multitudeagainst the 'pretender,' and still more at the sight of the sea,that she had gone into transports of fright, implored to go home,and perhaps half wilfully, become useless, so that the weaningalready commenced had to be expedited, and the fretfulness of thepoor child had been one of the troubles for some days. However, heseemed on his return to have forgotten his troubles, and Anne hadhim in her arms nearly all the next day.

It was not till late in the evening that Anne knew what the King hadmeant. Then, while she was walking up and down the room, amusingthe little Prince with showing by turns the window and his face in alarge mirror, the Queen came in, evidently fresh from weeping, andholding out her arms for him, said, after looking to see that therewas no other audience--

"Child, the King would repose a trust in you. He wills that youshould accompany me to-night on a voyage to France to put thislittle angel in safety."

"As your Majesty will," returned Anne; "I will do my best."

"So the King said. He knew his brave sailor's daughter was worthyof his trust, and you can speak French. It is well, for we go underthe escort of Messieurs de Lauzun and St. Victor. Be ready atmidnight. Lady Strickland or the good Labadie will explain more toyou, but do not speak of this to anyone else. You have leave now,"she added, as she herself carried the child towards his father'srooms.

The maiden's heart swelled at the trust reposed in her, and theKing's kind words, and she kept back the sense of anxiety and doubtas to so vague a future. She found Mrs. Labadie lying on her bedawake, but trying to rest between two busy nights, and she was thentold that there was to be a flight from the palace of the Queen andPrince at midnight, Mrs. Labadie and Anne alone going with them,though Lord and Lady Powys and Lady Strickland, with the Queen'sItalian ladies, would meet them on board the yacht which was waitingat Gravesend. The nurse advised Anne to put a few necessaryequipments into a knapsack bound under a cloak, and to leave othergarments with her own in charge of Mr. Labadie, who would despatchthem with those of the suite, and would follow in another day withthe King. Doubt or refusal there could of course be none in suchcircumstances, and a high-spirited girl like Anne could not but feela thrill of heart at selection for such confidential and signalservice at her age, scarcely seventeen. Her one wish was to writeto her uncle what had become of her. Mrs. Labadie hardly thought itsafe, but said her husband would take charge of a note, and ifpossible, post it when they were safe gone, but nothing of theKing's plans must be mentioned.

The hours passed away anxiously, and yet only too fast. So many hadquitted the palace that there was nothing remarkable in packing, butas Anne collected her properties, she could not help wonderingwhether she should ever see them again. Sometimes her spirit roseat the thought of serving her lovely Queen, saving the littlePrince, and fulfilling the King's trust; at others, she was full ofvague depression at the thought of being cut off from all she knewand loved, with seas between, and with so little notice to heruncle, who might never learn where she was; but she knew she had hisapproval in venturing all, and making any sacrifice for the Kingwhom all deserted; and she really loved her Queen and little Prince.

The night came, and she and Mrs. Labadie, fully equipped in cloaksand hoods, waited together, Anne moving about restlessly, the elderwoman advising her to rest while she could. The little Prince, allunconscious of the dangers of the night, or of his loss of a throne,lay among his wraps in his cradle fast asleep.

By and by the door opened, and treading softly in came the King inhis dressing-gown and night-cap, the Queen closely muffled, LadyStrickland also dressed for a journey, and two gentlemen, the onetall and striking-looking, the other slim and dark, in their cloaks,namely, Lauzun and St. Victor.

It was one of those supreme moments almost beyond speech ormanifestation of feeling.

The King took his child in his arms, kissed him, and solemnly saidto Lauzun, "I confide my wife and son to you."

Both Frenchmen threw themselves on their knees kissing his hand witha vow of fidelity. Then giving the infant to Mrs. Labadie, Jamesfolded his wife in his arms in a long mute embrace; Anne carried thebasket containing food for the child; and first with a lantern wentSt. Victor, then Lauzun, handing the Queen; Mrs. Labadie with thechild, and Anne following, they sped down the stairs, along thegreat gallery, with steps as noiseless as they could make them, downanother stair to a door which St. Victor opened.

A sentry challenged, sending a thrill of dismay through the anxioushearts, but St. Victor had the word, and on they went into the privygardens, where often Anne had paced behind Mrs. Labadie as thePrince took his airing. Startling lights from the windows fell onthem, illuminating the drops of rain that plashed round them on thatgrim December night, and their steps sounded on the gravel, whilestill the babe, sheltered under the cloak, slept safely. Anotherdoor was reached, more sentries challenged and passed; here was astreet whose stones and silent houses shone for a little space asSt. Victor raised his lantern and exchanged a word with a man on thebox of a carriage.

One by one they were handed in, the Queen, the child, the nurse,Anne, and Lauzun, St. Victor taking his place outside. As if in adream they rattled on through the dark street, no one speakingexcept that Lauzun asked the Queen if she were wet.

It was not far before they stopped at the top of the steps calledthe Horseferry. A few lights twinkled here and there, and werereflected trembling in the river, otherwise a black awful gulf, fromwhich, on St. Victor's cautious hail, a whistle ascended, and acloaked figure with a lantern came up the steps glistening in therain.

One by one again, in deep silence, they were assisted down, and intothe little boat that rocked ominously as they entered it. There thewomen crouched together over the child unable to see one another,Anne returning the clasp of a hand on hers, believing it Mrs.Labadie's, till on Lauzun's exclaiming, "Est ce que j'incommode saMajeste?" the reply showed her that it was the Queen's hand that sheheld, and she began a startled "Pardon, your Majesty," but the sweetreply in Italian was, "Ah, we are as sisters in this stress."

The eager French voice of Lauzun went on, in undertones certainly,but as if he had not the faculty of silence, and amid the plash ofthe oars, the rush of the river, and the roar of the rain, it wasnot easy to tell what he said, his voice was only another of thenoises, though the Queen made little courteous murmurs in reply. Itwas a hard pull against wind and tide towards a little speck ofgreen light which was shown to guide the rowers; and when at lastthey reached it, St. Victor's hail was answered by Dusions, one ofthe servants, and they drew to the steps where he held a lantern.

"To the coach at once, your Majesty."

"It is at the inn--ready--but I feared to let it stand."

Lauzun uttered a French imprecation under his breath, and danced onthe step with impatience, only restrained so far as to hand out theQueen and her two attendants. He was hotly ordering off Dusions andSt. Victor to bring the coach, when the former suggested that theymust find a place for the Queen to wait in where they could findher.

"What is that dark building above?"

"Lambeth Church," Dusions answered.

"Ah, your Protestant churches are not open; there is no shelter forus there," sighed the Queen.

"There is shelter in the angle of the buttress; I have been there,your Majesty," said Dusions.

Thither then they turned.

"What can that be?" exclaimed the Queen, starting and shuddering asa fierce light flashed in the windows and played on the wall.

"It is not within, madame," Lauzun encouraged; "it is reflectedlight from a fire somewhere on the other side of the river."

"A bonfire for our expulsion. Ah! why should they hate us so?"sighed the poor Queen.

"'Tis worse than that, only there's no need to tell Her Majesty so,"whispered Mrs. Labadie, who, in the difficulties of the ascent, hadbeen fain to hand the still-sleeping child to Anne. "'Tis theCatholic chapel of St. Roque. The heretic miscreants!"

"Pray Heaven no life be lost," sighed Anne.

Sinister as the light was, it aided the poor fugitives at that deadhour of night to find an angle between the church wall and abuttress where the eaves afforded a little shelter from the rain,which slackened a little, when they were a little concealed from theroad, so that the light need not betray them in case any passengerwas abroad at such an hour, as two chimed from the clock overhead.

The women kept together close against the wall to avoid the drip ofthe eaves. Lauzun walked up and down like a sentinel, his armsfolded, and talking all the while, though, as before, his utteranceswere only an accompaniment to the falling rain and howling wind;Mary Beatrice was murmuring prayers over the sleeping child, whichshe now held in the innermost corner; Anne, with wide-stretchedeyes, was gazing into the light cast beyond the buttress by the fireon the opposite side, when again there passed across it that formshe had seen on All Saints' Eve--the unmistakable phantom ofPeregrine.

It was gone into the darkness in another second; but a violent starton her part had given a note of alarm, and brought back the Count,whose walk had been in the opposite direction.

"If it be a spy it _shall_ be the face of one who is dead;" and hedarted into the road, but returned in a few moments, saying no onehad passed except one of the rowers returning after running up tothe inn to hasten the coach; how could he have been seen from thechurch wall? The wheels were heard drawing up at that moment, sothat the only thought was to enter it as quickly as might be in thesame order as before, after which the start was made, along the roadthat led through the marshes of Lambeth; and then came the inquiry--an anxious one--whom or what mademoiselle, as Lauzun called her, hadseen.

"O monsieur!" exclaimed the poor girl in her confusion, her bestFrench failing, "it was nothing--no living man."

"Can mademoiselle assure me of that? The dead I fear not, theliving I would defy."

"He lives not," said she in an undertone, with a shudder.

"But who is he that mademoiselle can be so certain?" asked theFrenchman.

"Oh! I know him well enough," said Anne, unable to control hervoice.

"Mademoiselle must explain herself," said M. de Lauzun. "If he bespirit--or phantom--there is no more to say, but if he be in theflesh, and a spy--then--" There was a little rattle of his sword.

Thus adjured, Anne said in a low voice of horror: "It was agentleman of our neighbourhood; he was killed in a duel lastsummer!"

"Ah! You are certain?"

"I had the misfortune to see the fight," sighed Anne.

"That accounts for it," said the Queen kindly. "If mademoiselle'snerves were shaken by such a remembrance, it is not wonderful thatit should recur to her at so strange a watch as we have beenkeeping."

"It might account for her seeing this revenant cavalier in anypassenger," said Lauzun, not satisfied yet.

"No one ever was like him," said Anne. "I could not mistake him."

"May I ask mademoiselle to describe him?" continued the count.

Feeling all the time as if this first mention were a sort ofbetrayal, Anne faltered the words: "Small, slight, almostmisshapen--with a strange one-sided look--odd, unusual features."

Lauzun's laugh jarred on her. "Eh! it is not a flattering portrait.Mademoiselle is not haunted by a hero of romance, it appears, somuch as by a demon."

"And none of those monsieur has employed in our escape answer tothat description?" asked the Queen.

"Assuredly not, your Majesty. Crooked person and crooked mind gotogether, and St. Victor would only have trusted to your big honestrowers of the Tamise. I think we may be satisfied that thedemoiselle's imagination was excited so as to evoke a phantomimpressed on her mind by a previous scene of terror. Such thingshave happened in my native Gascony."

Anne was fain to accept the theory in silence, though it seemed toher strange that at a moment when she was for once not thinking ofPeregrine, her imagination should conjure him up, and there was astrong feeling within her that it was something external that hadflitted across the shadow, not a mere figment of her brain, thoughthe notion was evidently accepted, and she could hear a muttering ofMrs. Labadie that this was the consequence of employing youngwenches with their whims and megrims.

The Count de Lauzun did his best to entertain the Queen with storiesof revenants in Gascony and elsewhere, and with reminiscences of hiseleven years' captivity at Pignerol, and his intercourse withFouquet; but whenever in aftertimes Anne Woodford tried to recallher nocturnal drive with this strange personage, the chosen and veryunkind husband of the poor old Grande Mademoiselle, she never couldrecollect anything but the fierce glare of his eyes in the light ofthe lamps as he put her to that terrible interrogation.

The talk was chiefly monologue. Mrs. Labadie certainly slept,perhaps the Queen did so too, and Anne became conscious that shemust have slumbered likewise, for she found every one gazing at herin the pale morning dawn and asking why she cried, "O Charles,hold!"

As she hastily entreated pardon, Lauzun was heard to murmur, "Jeparie que le revenant se nomme Charles," and she collected hersenses just in time to check her contradiction, recollecting thathappily such a name as Charles revealed nothing. The little Prince,who had slumbered so opportunely all night, awoke and receivedinfinite praise, and what he better appreciated, the food that hadbeen provided for him. They were near their journey's end, and itwas well, for people were awakening and going to their work as theypassed one of the villages, and once the remark was heard, "Theregoes a coach full of Papists."

However, no attempt was made to stop the party, and as it would bedaylight when they reached Gravesend, the Queen arranged herdisguise to resemble, as she hoped, a washerwoman--taking off hergloves, and hiding her hair, while the Prince, happily again asleep,was laid in a basket of linen. Anne could not help thinking thatshe thus looked more remarkable than if she had simply embarked as alady; but she meant to represent the attendant of her Italian friendCountess Almonde, whom she was to meet on board.

Leaving the coach outside a little block of houses, the partyreached a projecting point of land, where three Irish officersreceived them, and conducted them to a boat. Then, wrapped closelyin cloaks from the chill morning air, they were rowed to the yacht,on the deck of which stood Lord and Lady Powys, Lady Strickland,Pauline Dunord, and a few more faithful followers, who had come morerapidly. There was no open greeting nor recognition, for thecaptain and crew were unaware whom they were carrying, and, on thediscovery, either for fear of danger or hope of reward, might havecaptured such a prize.

Therefore all the others, with whispered apologies, were hoisted upbefore her, and Countess Almonde had to devise a special entreatythat the chair might be lowered again for her poor laundress as wellas for the other two women.

The yacht, which had been hired by St. Victor, at once spread hersails; Mrs. Labadie conversed with the captain while the countesstook the Queen below into the stifling crowded little cabin. It wasaltogether a wretched voyage; the wind was high, and the pitchingand tossing more or less disabled everybody in the suite. The Queenwas exceedingly ill, so were the countess and Mrs. Labadie. Nobodycould be the least effective but Signora Turini, who waited on herMajesty, and Anne, who was so far seasoned by excursions atPortsmouth that she was capable of taking sole care of the littlePrince, as the little vessel dashed along on her way with her cargoof alarm and suffering through the Dutch fleet of fifty vessels,none of which seemed to notice her--perhaps by express desire not tobe too curious as to English fugitives.

Between the care of the little one, who needed in the tossing of theship to be constantly in arms though he never cried and when awakewas always merry, and the giving as much succour as possible to hersuffering companions, Anne could not either rest or think, butseemed to live in one heavy dazed dream of weariness and endurance,hardly knowing whether it were day or night, till the welcome soundwas heard that Calais was in sight.

Then, as well as they could, the poor travellers crawled from thecorners, and put themselves in such array as they could contrive,though the heaving of the waves, as the little yacht lay to, did notconduce to their recovery. The Count de Lauzun went ashore as soonas a boat could be lowered to apprise M. Charot, the Governor ofCalais, of the guest he was to receive, and after an interval ofconsiderable discomfort, in full view of the massive fortifications,boats came off to bring the Queen and her attendants on shore, this